My house, much like my life, is forever reminding me of all the choices I have to make. In the corner of my living room sits my spinning wheel and a basket full of fluff. It begs me to stop and relax. I know that working with fibers calms my life, but it will have to wait for another day.
In my bedroom sits piles and piles of books. They wonder if today might be the day I slow down, grab one off the shelf, and curl up in my chair with a glass of warm mulled cider. I know that taking time to read ignites my brain and sparks my imagination, but once again, the books will continue to sit undisturbed on the shelf.
In my basement sits a mountain of laundry.
I have no love of laundry, so it can just sit there for all I care.
Everywhere I turn I am faced with choices: things I should do, things I could do, things I must do, things I can do later, things I desperately wish I could do right now. These options are like tiny pieces of rope waiting to be pulled. The problem is, I cannot see the other end, so I don't know if the result of my tugging will be a victory...or a great big nasty knot. Some days I am brave (or foolhardy) and pull with reckless abandon. Other days I am paralyzed by my choices, and I spend all my time staring at my options and doing nothing.
Tonight I'm going to sleep in the midst of what seems like a thousand ropes. Tomorrow I hope to be rested enough that I might be strong enough to pick up a rope. I don't need to win the war, but I do need to start the battle. Hopefully, if I tug at these ropes a little at a time, eventually the knots will work themselves out.
And then maybe, hopefully, there won't be so many loose ends.